Durch die Gitterstäbe meines Herzens
by 2AM
Summary: Through the iron bars of my heart – a short fic about Mac’s feelings for Harm set sometime after Boomerang II. Forgot the Disclaimer: I don't own JAG and I don't own the poem it belongs to an anonymous German writer .


Author's note: This is a short fic about Mac's feelings for Harm (and a little bit for Mic)

Author's note: This is a short fic about Mac's feelings for Harm (and a little bit for Mic). It's set sometime after Boomerang II. I know it's kind of late for a fic about that since that happened ages ago, but I got the idea now so sue me. The title is part of a German poem that I will try to translate and put at the end of the story. It means _through the iron bars of my heart_.

A big Thank-You to my wonderful beta-reader Ayiana2! You are truly amazing!

Durch die Gitterstäbe meines Herzens…

Rain -- cold, unsympathetic, chilling me to the bone. And I know what I did. I finally realize my big mistake. Everything that was blurry and disturbing becomes distant and clear in this hard, icy rain. I'm freezing, shivering, and I don't really recognize what is happening to me anymore. In fact I don't recognize the woman I see when I look in the mirror. I opened up on that warm summer night in a foreign country under strange skies and unfamiliar stars. I tried my luck, tested it with all I had in me, crossed the boundaries that had been set so long ago… and was pushed away, rejected.

Now I'm standing here. Back at home. Looking up at the skies. I can't see the stars. They hide behind dark clouds, clouds that are dissolving as I stand rooted to this spot, dissolving into drops of water that fall all around me, that are in fact so fast and hard that they make my head hurt. But at least they help me understand, clearing away the cobwebs in my mind, and I can finally see what I have been doing over the last few months. Months? Years. But I'm going to stop. This is it. I am ending the dance. I am ending the battle, the war. I acknowledge my feelings and I decide to take action. And the realization that hit me just a moment ago makes my resolution so much stronger.

Sometimes running away is really the only option. I swore to myself that I would never run again, decided that I was done with running from my past, my relationships, my fears. But now I see that there is no other way to stay alive and hopefully unbroken. I was willing to bind myself to a man I don't love by a vow I would still choose to honour. But deep down in my heart I am paralyzed by my love for another man who does not want me, desire me, love me. It would have been wrong.

In fact this scenario screams disaster. And I have had enough of that in my life. Still I have to run. Not from one of them, but from both of them. Because ending the charade with the first will not end the self-destructive and emotionally-abusive dance with the second. So I'm going to run. I will make a call and then I will leave. I will not come back. There is nothing left for me. Nothing to gain in this place. I will start a new life and dance again with someone who won't hurt me the way… No. Don't think about it. There is no time for tears. No time to feel. If I start feeling I won't have the strength to leave anymore. Instead I will be spellbound and unable to flee.

I hate myself for being so gullible, so hopeful and desperate at the same time when it comes to him. _Durch die Gitterstäbe meines Herzens _- imprisoned by a man who looks at me as if I am the only woman he sees at one moment, and forgets I exist in the next. And while the rain is still pouring down on me I see myself for a second in a dark room, iron bars at one side and I see a distant world flashing before those bars, see people walk by, and then I see him standing there smiling, a rose in his hand.

It lands next to me, and as I take it I can already hear him walk away. And when I look up he has his arm around another blonde bimbo. And I am alone holding the rose, a fading image of his pity and his cruelty. I shake my head to get rid of the picture. Slowly my emotions catch up with my mind. The anger is the first to surface. Anger at the way he treats me, the way he gets my hopes up just so he can crush them with a single word, a look, sometimes even his well-timed silence.

Then there is sadness.

But I've been crying myself to sleep for years. It's an old companion. Impatience finally joins the pair. Move it, Mackenzie! It shouts with the voice of my drill sergeant from boot camp. And I obey. I finally shake myself out of my paralysis and make a first step towards my car - when I hear his voice saying my name. He's probably been here for a while, watching me standing in the rain, thinking. I never knew a man who respected my thoughts the way he does. He always waits for me to feel his presence or return back to earth.

My heart does a somersault before it nose-dives down to my toes, making me dizzy and nauseous in the process. He walks up behind me, and my instincts tell me to run - now. Only I can't move. I am paralyzed again - this time by his voice and his scent, and when he puts his hand on my back, his touch. And instantly my big realization and my intention of leaving and my resolution to make the phone call are gone. And in the deepest cavern of my heart silent tears run over the face of a lonely, frightened little girl who feels the hidden menace of this chivalrous officer and gentleman who won't commit to me, won't care about me, won't love me, no matter how hard I try or how long I wait. And I'm helpless. Utterly helpless. I take a deep breath, and I turn around slowly, and the concern I can see on his face makes me smile despite myself while my voice takes on a life of its own and tells him not to worry, because I'm fine.

The End

_The Poem (German):_

Durch die Gitterstäbe meines Herzen

Durch die Gitterstäbe meines Herzen  
scheint die Welt mir seltsam fremd

auf und nieder hier und dorthin  
doch die Tore sind versperrt

immer kleiner sind die Kreise  
immer mutloser der Ausbruch

manchmal bleiben Menschen stehen

werfen ein paar leise Worte  
werfen einen Blick herein

seltener kommst du vorbei

du hast meine Tür verriegelt  
du hast alles abgesperrt

manchmal wirfst du eine Rose  
wie ein Stückchen rohes Fleisch

im Vorübergehen hinein.

_And in English (I hated translating this because _

_I know it will never be as good as the original)_

Through the iron bars of my heart

Through the iron bars of my heart

The world seems to be curiously strange

Up and down, here and there

But the gates are locked up

The circles get smaller and smaller

The breakouts get more infrequent (literally: get more fainthearted)

Sometimes people stop

Throw a few quiet words

Throw a look at me

Less frequently you drop by

You have locked my door

You have barricaded everything

Sometimes you throw a rose

Like a little piece of raw meat

In while you pass me by.


End file.
